


Close Our Eyes (Pretend To Fly)

by ScarTheArmada



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Skating, Angst, Derek Feels Guilty, Except Laura, Figure Skater Derek, Figure Skater Isaac, Figure Skater Jackson, Figure Skater Kate, Figure Skater Kira, Figure Skater Malia, Figure Skater Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, I suck at tagging, Introducing little brother Matty Hale, Isaac's dad is his coach, KATE'S STILL A BITCH, M/M, Slow Burn, Stiles' mom was a professional figure skater before she died, alternate universe - figure skating, idek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarTheArmada/pseuds/ScarTheArmada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>All of Laura’s dreams of becoming an Olympic medal-winning figure skater had vanished in an instant, her life over in a flash of sequins and fiberglass. She’d died in a car crash two weeks before their qualifying program at Nationals while Derek was waiting at the rink for her to arrive for practice.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>After Laura’s death, Derek put away his skates. He couldn’t even look at them anymore. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing. I hope you like this anyway.

_Derek had never loved the glide of his skates on the ice. He’d never loved the chill in the air or the anticipation of performing. Derek had only started figure skating because his big sister had needed a partner, someone to practice with until she’d found someone to skate with her for real. He was supposed to be a stand in._

_Laura had always loved ice skating. She’d loved all the things that Derek hated about it. The flashy outfits and the stuffy music and the romance of it, they’d all called to Laura from the very start. Maybe that’s why Derek hadn’t put up much of a fuss when their mother had suggested him as a practice partner “just for the time being”. He could definitely skate and even though he was two years younger, he’d almost always been close to the same size as Laura until he’d hit puberty when he’d surpassed her. Plus, she was his sister. When Laura was on the ice she was different, mind unclouded by worries, free in a way she never was anywhere else. Anyone could see how comfortable she was as she flew over the ice. How was he supposed to deny her that?_

_“Practicing” had turned into “well, just a few performances”._

_They’d started off in the junior circuit, doing well and making a name for themselves. It was suggested that they might be good enough for the Olympics someday. Unfortunately, when that day came and someone approached with an offer to coach them, their parents turned the man down. Laura had thrown a fit but their parents were adamant, Laura had to graduate high school first. There were no such restrictions put on Derek because he was never meant to be a permanent part of the arrangement._

_By the time Laura finished high school, they’d been looking for another partner for her for over a year. She could have been a great singles skater but pairs skating had always felt right in a way skating alone never had. She always had someone on her side, someone to count on. Someone who had to trust her just as much as she trusted them. But she never found anyone she could feel as comfortable with as she felt with Derek. It was ingrained in him to move when she moved, to jump when she jumped. In training and performing with Derek for all those years, she’d forged the perfect partner. When she’d asked him to stay, to skate with her a few more times, just until she could reach that dream of wearing an Olympic medal around her neck, he’d said no at first. Made her fight him for it. He hadn’t wanted to be a figure skater. But eventually, as she always did, she wore him down._

_All of Laura’s dreams of becoming an Olympic medal-winning figure skater had vanished in an instant, her life over in a flash of sequins and fiberglass. She’d died in a car crash two weeks before their qualifying program at Nationals while Derek was waiting at the rink for her to arrive for practice._

_After Laura’s death, Derek put away his skates. He couldn’t even look at them anymore._

 

 


	2. One

“Hey, Der! Remember these?” Cora asks, holding up a dusty pair of binoculars.

Of course, he remembers them. Cora used to hide in the corners of the skating rink, pretending to be a rival figure skater, spying on the competition. Derek would catch her sometimes, trying to replicate the moves he and Laura had practiced for hours when she thought no one was looking. That was before Cora had decided she preferred hockey to figure skating.

“Yeah, of course I remember,” Derek says fighting a smile at the memory. Of course, one memory of being on the ice inevitably leads to another and Derek’s smile falls just as quickly as it arrived. “Put them away.”

Cora sighs, defeated, dropping the binoculars back into the box she’s been searching. “You know, not all memories of skating have to be bad, Derek. Just because Laura isn’t here—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Cora,” Derek grinds out, cutting off his little sister. He hates how she has the uncanny ability to trace the lines of his thoughts sometimes.

Cora rolls her eyes and lets out another breath, heavy and pronounced, proving herself every bit the teenager she is as she digs into the box again. Papers shift, sending dust into the air and Derek feels the distinct urge to clear his throat at the sight of it. “Oh my god,” Cora squeals, clapping a hand over her mouth as she laughs at a photograph that she’s uncovered. “Are you wearing _tights_?”

“What?!?” Derek yanks the photo from her hands and stares down at his own pouting face. His legs are, in fact, clad in tights but his costume had been shorts for that particular performance. “God, I _hated_ that outfit.”

“I don’t blame you,” Cora smirks as she snatches the picture back. She studies it more closely, eyes wandering from Laura’s million-watt smile to Derek’s petulant frown. “It’s terrifying.”

“Shut up, I was eleven. And it was hard enough coming up with routines for a brother-sister team without being creepy. Jack and Jill was going to happen sometime. I’m just glad we got it out of the way, sooner rather than later,” Derek says as he returns his attention to his own box. He knows what he’s looking for is in here somewhere. They _have_ to be.

“You know, I think that’s the most you’ve actually said about skating in years,” Cora states as she tucks the photo back into the box, her voice calm as though she isn’t trying to stir up trouble. Derek knows better.

“I thought I said to drop it,” He intones, not bothering to glare. Cora has long since been immune anyway. He lifts a folder full of old report cards out of the way and finally sees what he’s looking for. “Found them,” he announces so that Cora doesn’t go digging any deeper into the past.

Cora sighs, standing and pushing the box she’s been looking in out of the way. “I can’t believe you’re leaving us.”

Derek frowns, clutching the old tax returns in his hand tightly, crinkling the pages. They’re one of the last things he needs to finalize his move to Chicago. He doesn’t _want_ to move, he just feels so stifled in Beacon Hills. Like he’s been holding too tightly to something long gone and now he just needs to let go, move on. “I’m not leaving _you_ , Cor. I’m not leaving Mom or Dad or Matty. I’m not leaving this family, I’m just leaving town. I’ve got to start living my own life sometime.”

“Yeah, right” Cora scoffs as she makes her way to the trap door that leads down to the second floor of the house. “You could do that here. You’re running away, Derek. I may be young, but I’m not stupid.”

“Cora,” Derek moves quickly and catches her elbow before she can descend the stairs and duck away from the conversation. She speaks again before Derek can, cutting off his argument with sad eyes and a defiant stance.

“I miss her too, you know. The reason you stay away from the ice is the same reason that I'm always on it. It makes me feel closer to her,” Cora’s voice goes quiet, subdued by unshed tears. “Poor Matty doesn’t even remember enough to know how incredible she was.”

“You’ll tell him,” Derek tells her, guilt flooding his chest because he’d like to be the one to regale his little brother with stories of Laura’s feats of magnificence but he’s not strong enough. His older sister had been his best friend for a long time but, no matter how long it’s been, the pain of losing her still feels fresh, a wound that refuses to heal.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Cora yanks her arm back, gaze hardening because she’s always looked up to her brother and it’s a bit disheartening to know that he’s such a coward where it counts. “ _You_ should be telling him, Derek. Hell, you could show him. All the things you did together, the way you commanded people’s attention when you were skating together. You have so many more stories to tell than I ever could.”

Derek breathes out, a wretched sigh that attests to the weight Laura’s death still carries. “It hurts, Cor. Talking about her, thinking about everything she was reaching for but never got to touch. It’s painful.”

Cora’s gaze softens a little, she’s not used to Derek opening up to her. He’s been so closed off since Laura’s death, keeping everything buried inside. “It won’t stop hurting if you never let it go, Der.”

Derek blinks at his little sister, all of seventeen and so much smarter than he’s ever been. “It’s not that easy.”

And just like that Cora can see the shutters behind Derek’s eyes slam back into place, shutting her out again. She shakes her head at him, unable to believe just how hard-headed he is. “Fine. Run instead of facing your demons. But remember, Der, demons don’t give up so easily.”

Derek watches without a word as Cora turns to climb down the ladder out of the attic. She stops with just her head still visible.

“I just don’t get why you think it hurts you more than the rest of us,” she tells him, sad once more.

He doesn’t answer but it’s clear when she keeps moving, disappearing downstairs, that she wasn’t really expecting him to.

Derek looks down at the papers clutched tightly in his hand, he’d wrinkled them pretty badly as he gripped them tighter and tighter during their talk. He lets go of them, watching uselessly as they fall heavily to the floor, pages stuck together due to the indentions of Derek’s fingers. He slumps down to sit next to the pages that could determine his future outside of Beacon Hills if he lets them. Closing his eyes and dropping his head into his hands, Derek finally gives Cora the answer she didn’t stick around to hear.

“Because it’s my fault.”


	3. Two

“Alright, good job!” Stiles claps his hands, trying to get the attention of his class back on him. “We have ten minutes left on the clock so I’m going to let you free skate.”

The kids whoop excitedly and start skating off in different directions causing Stiles to raise his voice to be heard.  “ _But_ I want to see you utilizing some of the mad skills I’ve been teaching you!”

Stiles watches proudly as Matty Hale performs a perfect camel spin off in an empty corner of the rink, the boy spinning on his right foot while his left is raised parallel to the ice. He’s one of Stiles’ more advanced students. He’s especially good for an eight-year-old, his love of skating making him one of Stiles’ favorites. Not that he’d ever tell anyone.

Matty is well on track to be as good as Derek was. It breaks Stiles’ heart that he has to use the past tense with Derek. Derek was sort of his hero back in the day, especially in the years after Stiles’ mom died.

Claudia Stilinski had been a beautiful singles skater. She’d won a silver medal in the 2002 winter Olympics when Stiles was eight years old. Two years later she was gone, torn away from him and his father by an illness that had hit suddenly but killed her slowly, painfully. Stiles had learned his love of skating from her but he’d nearly let it die with her when she’d been taken from him. It was Derek that had given it back to him. He’d had lots of conversations with his mother after her death, but instead of going to her grave to say what he’d needed to say, he’d had his father take him to the place she’d loved more than any other, the Hale Skating Rink. She’d had a practice rink of her own, but she’d always loved the Hale rink because she thrived on a love of the ice. Not just hers, everyone’s. The more the better.

“Love makes the world go round, kotku,” she’d say, when she’d take him with her. “It makes the ice smooth beneath our blades, the air light for our leaps and quick for our spins. _Love_ , kotku, can do anything.”

At the time, Stiles had been too busy scrunching his face in displeasure at his Polish mother calling him ‘kitten’ to really hear her message. It was only after she’d gone that the words had gotten through to him. He’d been bitter, thinking about how love hadn’t managed to save her as he sat and gave the ice the cold shoulder that day. He was playing a game that he’d never win, when he accidentally found himself watching one of Derek and Laura Hale’s practice sessions. Laura moved with an elegance that had Stiles longing for his mother, thin skirt fluttering behind her as she moved with a lightness that would have made it evident to anyone watching just how much of her heart she put into her skating. But it was Derek that captured Stiles’ attention and kept it. His movements were heavier somehow, still graceful but it was a predatory kind of grace. He didn’t love the ice like his sister did, but it was clear that he respected it. It wasn’t the ice he loved, it was his sister. _She_ was the reason he was there.

The words Stiles had heard his mother say so many times came back to him again, _love can do anything_. Even make a boy who’d apparently rather be reading (if the number of times he’d done just that on their breaks was any indication) stick it out in a sport he excelled at but obviously didn’t much care for. If Derek could skate for the love of his sister, Stiles could do it for the memory of his mother. He could work through the pain and make the rink a safe haven again. He was only ten at the time, but it had seemed like sound logic.

The memories of that day are tinted blue with sadness now, because while Stiles decided to feed his love as a tribute to his mother, Derek had obviously chosen the opposite path when struck with the same kind of tragedy.

“Nice move, Matty!” Cora Hale’s voice, calling from the edge of the rink catches Stiles’ attention, pulling him from thoughts that he has no business having. It’s not his place to judge Derek’s choices.

Cora is decked out in her full hockey uniform as she glides out to meet her younger brother, picking him up and twirling him in the air with pride before setting him back down again. “You’re getting so good.”

“I guess,” Matty says with a modest shrug.

“Stiles,” Cora says, turning to her brother’s teacher. “Tell him he’s getting good.”

“You are,” Stiles promises. He doesn’t gush like Cora expects him to and he gets a glare for it but he can already see Matty’s cheeks tinting at the attention so he’s not going to worry about it. He’s twenty-two. He can handle a seventeen year old girl being irritated at him. Even if she does look pretty intimidating with all those pads on.

“Ice is ours, Stilinski,” Coach Finstock hollers as he and the rest of the Beacon Hills Halefires take the ice.

“Alright, kiddies,” Stiles tells his class. “Unless you want to try out for the hockey team, it’s time to go.”

He leads the kids off the ice and helps the younger ones remove their skates, removing his own and staying with the kids until every last one is picked up by their parents. Except Matty, of course. He always stays to watch Cora practice and then Cora walks him home.

“Your sister’s right, you know,” Stiles says, sitting next to the boy and making conversation while keeping his eyes on the hockey team in case Matty’s feeling shy again. “You are doing really well in class. You could probably go pretty far if you wanted to go pro.”

“Nah,” Matty shakes his head, not seeming too bothered by Stiles’ presence. “I don’t want to.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, unable to mask his disbelief. “You seem to really love it out there.”

“Skating makes Derek sad,” Matty says like that’s all the reason he needs. Maybe it is. Matty’s love for Derek enough to keep him from causing his brother undue pain by bringing skating into his life again. Stiles wonders if Matty understands _why_ skating makes Derek sad but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. “He’s leaving though, so maybe.”

“What? Derek’s leaving?” Stiles questions, certain he’s misunderstood Matty somehow. Derek’s not leaving _Beacon Hills_. At least not for good. There’s no way. And why is Stiles’ heart lurching like that in his chest? “Where’s he going?”

“Chicago,” Matty answers.

Stiles waits for more but apparently that’s the whole answer. Chicago. Full stop.

“For a trip or something?”

“No. He’s moving there. He says he’ll still visit though,” Matty says, not sounding all that convinced. A second later he turns to Stiles like his skating teacher will have some answers for him. “Do _you_ think he’ll still visit?”

“Yeah,” Stiles answers too quickly. “If he says he will, I’m sure he will. He’d never let you down, bud.”

“Yeah,” Matty agrees. “I guess.”

Stiles just hopes he hasn’t told the boy a lie.


	4. Three

The last place Stiles expected Derek Hale to show up is at his front door.

“Uh, hi,” Stiles greets from halfway behind his door. When he saw Derek standing there on his porch, he just kinda stopped moving. Which has led to this ridiculous position that makes it looks like he’s hiding. He moves to correct the situation and ends up tripping over the bottom corner of the door and falling face first into Derek’s chest.

Derek catches him, arms firm around Stiles’ back, before he can pull them both down. He helps Stiles stand up straight and keeps his hands out, like he’s afraid Stiles might topple over again.

Stiles sees what Derek is doing and brushes himself off like falling into the chests of absurdly attractive men is a common occurrence that isn’t mortifying at all. “I meant to do that.”

“Tell me again how you became a skating instructor?” Derek squints at him and Stiles can swear he sees one corner of Derek’s lip fighting to curl up at the joke.

He _will not_ swoon. And the fact that he has to tell himself not to makes it pretty clear that his ill-conceived childhood crush on Derek Hale still burns on, alive and well in his traitorous heart.

“Well, Derek, there’s this thing called nepotism. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s where family members pull strings to get you a job,” Stiles returns. It’s funny because the only jobs Derek has ever held were in businesses run by members of his family. Stiles wonders what he’s got lined up in Chicago.

“Oh yeah,” Derek rubs at his the stubble on his cheeks like it helps him think. “Your dad, the Zamboni driver, got you a job at the rink. Now I remember.”

“You know that’s just a second job he does because he loves it. I’d think his job as _Sheriff_ _of Beacon Hills_ would maybe make you think twice before being a dick to the lowly skating instructor.”

“You’d think,” Derek agrees. “Maybe if the skating instructor hadn’t assaulted me first thing in the morning...”

Stiles snorts. “You want to come inside or what?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles leaves the door wide open as he walks back into his house. He can hear Derek close it behind him as he follows.

“Have a seat,” Stiles offers. “You want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Derek says as he sits on Stiles’ couch, sad eyes glued to the television. It takes Stiles a moment to realize why they’re so mournful but then he remembers what he was watching.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles moves to pick up the remote from the seat next to Derek but the other man stops him, hand landing on top of Stiles’ before he can change the channel.

“No, it’s okay,” Derek tells him, eyes still riveted to the screen. He hasn’t let himself anywhere near anything even remotely related to ice skating in four years. He kind of… He kind of misses it, now that he’s seeing it onscreen.

“Sooo, not that I don’t enjoy your company,” Stiles sits gingerly next to the other man, leaving as much space between them as he can with Derek’s hand still placed on top of his, “but is there a reason you’re at my house at 10 am on a Saturday?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if you already heard but I’m moving.” Derek retracts his hand without even realizing how long it’s been trapping Stiles’ underneath it, and tries to look at Stiles as he speaks but his eyes keep flicking back to the television.

“Yeah, I heard,” Stiles answers quietly. It’s alarming just how settled he feels knowing that Derek wasn’t going to leave without telling him, without saying goodbye. They’ve never been close, Derek refusing to let anyone in after the loss of Laura, but Stiles had always liked to think of them as friends. Even if they possibly, probably, _weren’t_. Ok, so it was more wishful thinking. And maybe he was wishing for more than just a friendship with the other man. Shut up, he was a teenager. Mostly. “Chicago, right?”

“Matty told you?” Derek guesses, finally managing to train his gaze on Stiles for longer than two seconds.

Stiles nods without speaking.

“How’s he taking it?” The anxious expression on Derek’s face just barely keeps Stiles from retorting that he should ask Matty that himself. It’s obvious he’s afraid that he’s letting his little brother down even before he’s done anything.

Stiles shrugs with one shoulder. “Pretty well, I guess. He’s worried you won’t visit as often as you promise to.”

Derek nods along. He’s worried about that, too. Afraid that if he leaves Beacon Hills, he may not find his way back. He doesn’t make any more promises that he doesn’t think he can keep, instead asking what he came here to ask. “Will you look out for him? And Cora? I know my parents do their best but they’re both pretty close to you.”

“Derek,” Stiles sighs. “I mean, I’ll do my best but… they don’t want a substitute big brother.”

“Stiles, please. Just promise me this. You’re the closest thing to a friend I have left in this town and I can’t leave without knowing they have someone capable watching their backs.”

“Then, don’t leave,” Stiles argues.

Derek’s face pinches in frustration, what Cora calls his ‘bitch face’. “Not you too.”

“Look, just hear me out,” Stiles says putting a hand on Derek’s arm to make sure he’s paying attention. “You have so many things left to do in this town, Derek. You’re not done here.”

“Ok. What do I have left to do, Stilinski? Give me a list,” Derek commands, crossing his arms over his chest. Even if the body language wasn’t a dead giveaway, Stiles would know that Derek’s on the defensive because that’s the only time he calls Stiles by his last name.

“You’ve never once been to one of Cora’s games,” Stiles starts, counting things off on his fingers. “Your uncle is running the juniors class into the ground and for some reason you’re the only person he even halfway listens to, and Matty loves skating, Derek. He _loves it._ But he refuses to actually try to do anything with it because he thinks it would hurt you.”

Derek flinches at Stiles’ final point. He hadn’t realized that Matty had been so affected by his behavior.

“You could teach him, Derek, far better than I could,” Stiles continues, scooting closer in his excitement. “It would mean so much to him just to spend some time with you, but actually learning what you know about this sport that he lives for would be so awesome for him.”

“Stiles,” Derek raises a hand to stop the onslaught of information and ideas that seem to be flooding from Stiles’ mouth. “I can’t- I don’t know if I could do that. It’s been years.”

Stiles shoulders sag as he looks at Derek’s defeated face and realizes that he had no reason to get so excited in the first place. “What’s waiting for you in Chicago that’s so much better than Beacon Hills?”

Derek goes quiet and Stiles is afraid for a moment that he’s pushed Derek too far, that the man has closed himself off again and he’ll be storming out at any second. He waits as patiently as he knows how, expecting the worst.

“There are no ghosts in Chicago,” Derek’s answer is just barely above a whisper.

“We all have ghosts, Derek,” Stiles starts but Derek lashes out before he can move to comfort the older man.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t _kill_ your mom, Stiles. Your ghosts aren’t following you around, reminding you that everything you’ve lost is your own fault,” Derek yells, rising from the couch.

“Woah, Derek,” Stiles follows, trying to somehow soothe him but failing spectacularly because he’s too busy being shocked at Derek’s words. “How- What the hell are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t… Stiles— I was seeing someone,” Derek begins in broken tones, arms crossed in front of himself again but this time it looks less like he’s shielding himself and more like he’s trying to keep himself from rending apart. “We weren’t even supposed to have practice that day but I insisted we switch days so that I could go out with my girlfriend on Friday. If I hadn’t been such an ass, Laura would still be here… it’s my fault she’s gone.”

“Oh my god, Derek, you can’t think like that,” Stiles tells him as he comes up to wrap his arms around Derek. “You don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t switched days. Maybe she’d still be gone, or maybe you would. You can’t know that and it’ll kill you if you keep thinking like that.”

“She didn’t even care about me,” Derek says colorlessly as he stares blankly over Stiles’ shoulder.

“Of course Laura cared about you,” Stiles tries to counter but Derek’s already shaking his head.

“Not Laura. Kate. The girl I was seeing,” he clarifies. “She was a rival skater and all she wanted was to ruin our routines. I thought I loved her and she didn’t give a damn about me. I got my sister killed for a girl who wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire.”

Stiles squeezes Derek tighter in his arms, showing his affection rather aggressively until Derek’s arms move to circle Stiles’ waist and he finally accepts it.

“Derek, don’t leave,” Stiles whispers. “Don’t let that bitch run you away from your home, your family. Laura would _hate_ that.”

Derek silently agrees, Laura _would_ hate that.


	5. Four

Derek quakes as he ties on his skates. This is the closest he’s been to Laura in four years and he’s afraid of what she might say if he lets her close enough. It’s taken him days to work up to this, being back here, but he thinks now is the time.

He’s decided that Stiles is right. He’s not done in Beacon Hills. Whether or not that actually matters depends on if he has the guts to do this.

Slipping off the blade guards, he wobbles to the edge of the ice and steps on. It takes a second to get his balance and he’s certain that if anyone were looking he’d feel ridiculous but Derek manages to find his footing eventually. Five minutes on the ice actually feels a bit like coming home.

He glides across the ice like he used to when he was a child. Eyes closed, arms raised, pretending he’s flying as the cool air bites at his cheeks. _Stiles **is** right. You aren’t even close to done with this_ , Laura whispers in his ear.

Derek smiles at the memory of her voice. He never thought he’d let himself hear it again, terrified that it would scream of his sins. Never once imagining that it might carry the pardon of forgiveness. Maybe it’s just because he finally told someone what he’s feared all these years and gave them a chance to contradict them, to tell him what he’s needed most to hear, that it’s not his fault. Maybe he’s finally forgiving himself but he prefers to imagine that Laura is at his side, telling him that she doesn’t blame him and clasping his hand so that they might have one last performance together.

Everything floods back to him like it was yesterday. Every spin, every jump, every throw.

Derek finds himself running through their Jack and Jill routine from when he was 11. He’d hated it at the time because of those godawful shorts and the tights that accompanied them but now he finds a certain solace in the movements.

He lands a triple axel halfway through the routine and realizes that, for the first time in ages, he feels lighter than air. He doesn’t know if it’s the feeling that his sister is skating along beside him or the simple fact that he’s realizing for the first time just how much he loves the feeling of soaring through the air as his blades engrave his path in the ice.

When he’s finished, Derek realizes two very important things. One, he’s very much out of shape and desperately needs to work on his endurance. And two, his fault or not, he believes he owes his big sister an Olympic medal.

 

~*~

 

“I’m not moving,” Derek announces at breakfast and all the minute, little sounds of life happening around him come to an abrupt halt.

“What?” Cora asks, mouth half-full of nutella-covered toast. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, indicate that she heard him just fine.

“I’ve decided not to go to Chicago,” Derek repeats, as he sits down with a bowl of Raisin Bran acting like he hasn’t just dropped a bomb on them.

Slowly, the kitchen regains its normalcy as everyone returns to their food.

“What brought this on?” Derek’s mother enquires as she hides her smile behind a sip of coffee.

“Well, I talked to Stiles and—”

“Stiles?” Derek’s father interrupts, surprise in the arch of his brow. “After all these years, I didn’t think that boy had it in him.”

Derek furrows his brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

His father stares at him for a second. “Didn’t he— oh, um. Nothing. Forget I said anything,” Stephan Hale mumbles, leaning over to his wife to add, “Looks like I was right, anyway.”

Talia smacks her husband on the arm, well aware that Derek is still watching. “Go on, dear,” she instructs, “You were saying?”

“Yeah,” Derek starts slowly. His parents are behaving even weirder than usual. “So, Stiles convinced me that I still have things to do here. Like going to Cora’s game on Saturday.”

Cora squeals happily from her seat next to him, “Really? Are you sure, Der? You know this means getting close to the ice, right?” Leave it to her to stick it to him when he’s trying to be nice.

“Yes, Cora, I’m aware,” he answers stoically, taking a breath before adding, “In fact, that brings me to the other thing I wanted to tell you.”

Everyone goes quiet again, waiting.

“I’m getting back into skating.”

Cora’s not the only one with an unblinking stare this time.

Derek turns to his little brother, “Hey, Matty, want to walk to the rink later? Remind me how everything goes?”

Even if this is a colossal mistake, Derek will never forget the way Matty’s face lights up at the prospect of skating with his big brother.

 

~*~

 

Isaac Lahey takes a sip of water as he catches his breath, running his fingers through his sweaty curls.

“You call those jumps?!?” His father, his _coach_ , yells in his face. Despite being his coach for the past three and a half years, his father seems to forget that he’s not coaching hockey anymore. “A fucking toddler could do a better Lutz. And what business do you think you have doing a Biellmann spin?? That’s a chick move, son. It’s bad enough you picked a male skating partner, you already look like a fucking pansy.”

Isaac takes another swallow of his water and wonders what his father will do if he ever finds out that Isaac and his skating partner are fucking.

“Cam never would have put me through this gigantic clusterfuck,” Isaac’s father spits out.

Isaac rolls his eyes. _Oh yeah, dad. Bring up my dead brother again_. _Great coaching strategy._

Cameron died so bravely overseas in battle for his country. And here Isaac has the audacity to still be alive. And worse, he’s a figure skater! So embarrassing to a manly man like Garrett Lahey.

Out on the ice, Jackson Whittemore excels at a triple axel. Isaac watches the lines of his body as he moves gracefully over the ice. He lets his mind wander to what he’s going to do to that body later tonight simply because he knows how red his father’s face would turn if he knew.

Coach Lahey whacks his son on the back of the head with the hand towel he keeps nearby to wring in his hands when he thinks about his son’s life choices. “Get back out there. Don’t make your partner do all the work.”

Isaac gets up and skates back over to Jackson to get into their starting positions and run through their program for the bazillionth time.

“Still don’t see why it couldn’t have worked out with that Argent girl,” Lahey mutters to himself, shaking his head at his son. “There’s something wrong with that boy.”

Isaac side eyes his dad as Jackson’s hands settle on his waist.

“Ready, baby?” Jackson asks into his ear.

Isaac smirks at him over his shoulder. “Always.”

Jackson gives his shoulder a sneaky nip when their coach isn’t looking and then, they’re off. Working with and against each other in perfect rhythm as they make their way through their routine. When they freeze in their final move, both breathing heavily with the exertion, Isaac smiles at his boyfriend. Soon, they’ll be able to be open about what they are to each other because soon they’re going to fire their coach. _After_ they make history as the first same sex figure skating pair to win at the Olympics.


	6. Five

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice is colored with surprise. He hasn’t seen Derek at the rink in years. Obviously, he’d hoped that Derek would return, especially after their talk, but he didn’t actually expect results so quickly.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek greets with a smile. “Is there a class today?”

“Oh. No. I’m just here for myself,” Stiles answers, managing to only flail his arms once during his explanation. It’s a personal best where speaking to Derek is concerned.

“Oh,” Derek nods.

“Are you staying?” Stiles asks, crossing every finger possible on both hands behind his back. “In Beacon Hills?”

Derek bites his lip, eyes to the floor in a move that Stiles thinks Derek _must_ know absolutely kills him. “Yeah,” he glances up at Stiles through his lashes. “Someone finally talked some sense into me.”

“Good,” Stiles states, warmth flooding his chest cavity. “You belong here.”

Derek doesn’t really know what to say to that. He thinks Stiles may be right, actually. They’re quiet for a bit too long before Derek breaks the silence. “Well, Matty’s going to show me how to do all the stuff I’ve forgotten. Aren’t you, Matty?” He twists his head to the side as he questions his little brother but the boy isn’t there, already having carved his way to a smooth spot on the ice.

“I told you, he loves it,” Stiles has a proud grin on his face as he watches Matty’s sit spin. If Derek had gone through with his plans, if he had actually left Beacon Hills, he’s absolutely positive that Stiles would have made a wonderful big brother for Matty.

“Yeah, I can tell. I was never that excited to be here,” Derek replies, turning quickly back to Stiles in awe of his little brother. “He can do a sit spin already?”

Stiles laughs, “Yeah. That’s not all he can do. And I kinda guessed that your heart wasn’t always completely in it.”

Derek studies the younger man, confusion thrumming in his blood. “What do you mean?”

Stiles ducks his head, hand scratching at the back of his neck. “I used to come here a lot, after my mom died. I’d come here to talk to her. I ended up sitting in on a lot of your practices.”

“You did?” Derek tries to remember seeing Stiles tucked away in one of the seats, watching as he’d practiced. He pretty sure he’d never noticed or he probably would have complained. “They were closed practices.”

“Yeah, I know. The first time was an accident but then my dad worked it out with your mom. She said it was okay, let me come by any time I wanted. It was nice of her. I just wanted my mom and this place was the closest I was going to get,” Stiles eyes are suspiciously shiny.

“She was Laura’s hero, you know,” Derek tells him.

“Yeah?” Stiles’ smile is sad but his eyes shine bright with the knowledge. He’s like a dying star, Derek thinks, maybe a bit faded at the moment but the universe is still a bit brighter because it exists. “That’s awesome.”

Stiles doesn’t say _you were mine_ but he does let the thought run through his head, circulate through his veins, and course into his heart.

Derek feels something shift in the air and he can’t pinpoint what it is but it fills him with a nervous energy. “I should,” he thumbs over to where Matty is going through a series of complex moves.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles agrees, watching Matty as well. It looks like the boy has already memorized the routines from last night’s singles programs on the television. Stiles always imagined he was a prodigy, looks like he was right.

Derek moves to skate over to his brother but Stiles stops him with a “Wait”. Derek turns back to him and Stiles face looks a little flushed when he asks if Derek will be watching the pairs skating portion of the Winter Olympics later with Matty. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was that time of year, but he hadn’t let himself think of it.

“I was just going to say, the two of you could come watch it with me. Dad still shies away from actually watching the competitions. So, I mean, you guys could keep me company.”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek shrugs. “I’ll bring pizza?”

“Excellent,” Stiles bobs his head enthusiastically. What? He likes pizza.

“Later, then,” Derek waves awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Stiles returns the wave. His is even more awkward if that’s possible. He lets himself breathe for the first time in what feels like an hour once Derek’s back is to him. Then, he checks to make sure that his feet are still firmly planted on the ice, because it feels a bit like he might be floating.

 

~*~

 

Stiles obsessively fixes and re-fixes his hair before realizing that he can’t really tell a difference between ‘styled’ and ‘stuck my finger in a light socket’. He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, looks at himself in the mirror and decides, _eh, that’s good enough_.

It’s not like this is date or anything. Stiles doesn’t have the balls to ask Derek Hale on a date. He’s just talked the man into staying in town, he doesn’t want to give him a reason to go jet-setting off to Chicago again.

Tugging at his shirt as he checks his reflection in the mirror, Stiles jumps when there’s a knock at the door. He rushes to answer it, pulling himself together once his hand is on the knob before swinging it open to reveal Derek and Matty.

“Are we late?” Matty asks, not waiting for an answer before running off into the living room to make sure they haven’t missed anything.

“The whole way over here he’s been talking about a guy named Isaac Jackson?” Derek’s tone suggests he’s not entirely sure he’s got the skater’s name right. And with good reason. “Matty’s really excited to see this guy skate. Is he really that good?”

Stiles laughs, taking the pizzas Derek is carrying so that he can rid himself of his coat. “Man, you _have_ been away for a while.”

“What? What am I missing?” Derek asks, pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his coat and hanging it on one of the hooks by the front door.

“It’s not one guy,” Stiles explains. “They’re a pair. Isaac Lahey and Jackson Whittemore. And yes, they’re that good.”

“Wait, two guys? Since when is that allowed?” Derek looks at Stiles with wonder in his eyes. Pairs have always been defined in the rule books as one male and one female skater.

“Since about a year after you left,” Stiles tells him with a smirk. “Same sex pairs still haven’t really caught on. There are only two at this level of competition anyway. Isaac and Jackson, and then a female pair. Uh, Malia Tate and Kira Yukimura.”

“Wow, I _have_ been away.”

Stiles laughs at Derek repeating his sentiments from a moment ago.

“Derek! Stiles! Hurry up, they’re on!” Matty yells from the living room.

Both men rush to the living room, Derek to appease his little brother, Stiles because he doesn’t want to miss anything. Isaac and Jackson aren’t just Matty’s favorites.

Derek sits next to Matty on the couch and Stiles frowns as he realizes that he’ll have to go to the kitchen for plates. Fortunately, he looks at the television and realizes that they’re just doing an interview. He’s got a few minutes so he rushes to the cabinets in the kitchen.

“How does it feel to be one of the first same-sex pairs figure skating teams to make it to the Olympics?” He hears the interviewer ask and chuckles to himself. Apparently, she didn’t do her research on who she was interviewing.

“How does it feel to have an orgasm for the first time?” Jackson’s voice returns.

Derek’s enraptured by what’s happening on screen but he flinches at Jackson’s response and looks dubiously at his little brother. “Do I need to cover your ears for this?”

Matty shrugs, clearly unsure what the big deal is. And _what’s an orgasm?_ Hmm, oh well. He’ll ask his mom later.

“Uh, um, I—” the interviewer stutters.

“Amazing,” Isaac answers with a smirk, casting a lingering glance at his skating partner.

 _Oh_ , Derek thinks. _Are they…?_

“Are they a couple or just skating partners?” Derek calls over his shoulder at Stiles.

“They get asked that all the time,” Stiles calls as he gathers napkins under the pile of plates in his hands, three sodas balanced on top. “Their coach is adamant that they aren’t but he seems like huge, homophobic dick and they haven’t really said anything themselves but they’re totally fu—” he cuts himself off as he sees Matty looking at him with interest when he walks back into the living room. “Dating. They’re totally dating.”

“How do you know so much about them?” Derek asks, pulling a slice of pizza out of the box and putting it on a plate for Matty as Stiles gets settled in on his brother’s other side.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles asks gesturing to the television. “I love these guys. They’re trailblazers. _And_ amazing skaters.”

“And they’re funny,” Matty adds. Sure, he doesn’t always get the joke but they make Stiles laugh a lot.

Stiles smiles at him and ruffles his hair as he takes his pizza from Derek and he feels his cheeks warm. He doesn’t know if it’s proximity to the hot pizza or the fact that he feels like he’s just been praised without Stiles having to say a word.

“They’re starting!” he announces, pointing to the screen as the two skaters take their places on the ice.

Derek thinks he probably shouldn’t be surprised when the music that starts isn’t classical as is typically a popular choice. These guys don’t seem the type to be held back by the people who have come before. They seem determined to break out of every mold they get pushed into.

“Great song,” Stiles mutters to himself, bobbing his head along to the music but Derek doesn’t recognize it.

“What is it?” He asks, not moving his gaze from the screen. He’s so impressed by the seamless way the two men move together, a way in which only true intimacy can cultivate.

“It’s called ‘Wild Things’ by Alessia Cara. I’ll let you listen to it with the words later,” Stiles answers without moving his own gaze.

“Ok, thanks,” Derek responds, gasping when the pair pull off the perfect twist lift, Jackson tossing his partner in the air and Isaac doing two full rotations before landing beautifully on one skate, the other leg lifted horizontal to the ice behind him. “Woah.”

“I told you they’re good,” Stiles brags, lifting his pizza to his lips.

“Yeah, but did you see the air they got on that lift?” Derek asks incredulously.

“I did,” Stiles answers, chewing his food smugly. “And I told you.”

“He did tell you,” Matty adds causing a bark of laughter to spill from Stiles lips.

The rest of the programs don’t even come close to touching Isaac and Jackson’s, but Stiles has fun listening to Derek and Matty’s running commentary. They argue quite a bit but the consensus is that Isaac and Jackson are a shoe-in for the gold.

 

~*~

 

Isaac and Jackson get robbed of the gold by convention and old fashioned views but take home the silver. They kiss on the podium, outing themselves to the world and fire Isaac’s dad before they even leave the rink. They fuck with their medals on and promise each other that next time, it’ll be gold around their necks.


End file.
